


The Quinn Clan Short Stories

by Quinny_Imp



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_Imp/pseuds/Quinny_Imp
Summary: A collection of my short ficlets.Each story is its own chapter, and some put together for convenience, if they come together.All you wanted to know about my Quinns but were afraid to ask.





	1. Destruction

_Note: The ficlet was inspired by the Ziost Arc._

_Note #2: Attira is my Sith Warrior, she married Malavai Quinn._

 

They shuttled down to check it for themselves. Attira left the vehicle and walked forward, looking around at the ashes and destruction only after a moment noticing Malavai wasn’t following her. She stopped and turned to see him standing there with his hand covering his mouth and his almond eyes open wide and glistening with tears.

She walked back to him and squeezed his other hand. His eyes, until now scanning his surroundings, turned to her.

“Promise me,” he whispered, “that you’ll find a way to destroy him. For this, and before he does it again.”

She couldn’t make it a promise. She’d never break a promise that she’d given him, and she couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to keep it.

“I’ll try,” she replied softly. And she definitely would.

Little they knew that she would destroy him… at the high price of five-year separation they’d have to suffer.

“I’m ashamed I once served him,” she said, looking around.

“We all did.”

“You didn’t,” she looked at him. “You knew long ago he never cared for us, and that we were better off without him.”

He watched her for a moment, eventually accepting her words. She didn’t accuse him, she only admitted his past choice not to trust her then-absent master did not matter any more.

They walked forward, documenting in detail the crime the former emperor committed on the Sith Empire’s body.


	2. The Librarian's Apprentice / A Different Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains two stories.
> 
>  
> 
> Nayel is a terrifying Sith lord, but someone discovered his past as a slave was not forgotten.

**The Librarian’s Apprentice**

 

_Note #1: The story was written for Corellian Run Radio podcast’s contest “This Ain’t Yo Wampa’s Writing Contest”, where it took the second place._

* * *

 

 

Everyone left, and Nayel was alone in Thanat… in his chambers. Silence felt deafening. He approached one of library shelves, finding comfort in his steps echoing from the room’s walls. He randomly chose a data file, and accessed it. His eyes scanned the text but his mind wasn’t reading it. “Darth Nox” was still resonating is his memory – the new name Darth Marr had just given him merely a few days ago, and now everyone addressed him in this manner. He liked the sound of it. It felt… potent.

He returned to the table but didn’t sit. He looked at his hand, made a fist, then rolled up his sleeve to uncover his arm. It was like the rest of his body: covered by scars from Thanaton’s lightening attacks. He’d wear them proudly. He had persisted, he had fought, he had never given up.

He felt slightly cheated. Darth Mortis had taken the kill, stealing it from him. For all Thanaton had inflicted upon Nayel, for all he had had to go through to survive, the final blow should be his.

Too late for regrets… or complaints.

Newly minted Darth Nox left the chambers, and headed for the heart of the Sith Academy. After bouncing between Korriban and Dromund Kaas for his new position required visits, it was good to slow down for a moment in the facility that he had taken his first steps in freedom. He smirked with amusement: taking over Thanaton’s duties meant he was now the chief librarian of the Sith Empire. Excitement filled his heart at the thought of all the dark secrets he could now study, all the mysterious artefacts he could now learn to use, all the knowledge that had been mostly beyond his reach until now. His hunger for knowing and wisdom awakened again after years of slumber at the time of consuming ghosts for mere survival.

He overheard someone barking quietly in a darker corner of the main library chamber. The words were too soft to catch everything but his ears were sensitive to “slave” spoken with contempt. He had heard it too many times from that worm Harkun.

Curious, he headed for the source of the quiet but heated argument to see overseer Ruk swearing at a Togruta acolyte. She listened, timid, and shrinkin smaller with every second.

“That’s enough,” Nayel said in a stern tone.

“But–” Ruk tried to argue, but Nayel would have none of that. Not any more. Without hesitation, he zapped the overseer with lightening.

“Out of my sight!”

“Yes, my lord,” Ruk mumbled, and scrambled away.

“What’s your name, acolyte?”

“Herneth.”

“Report to my chambers once you’re finished with you tasks for today.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Soft, scared, shy. He thought she wouldn’t make it through the Academy, but he could sense her strength in the Force, and believed it’d be a waste to let her die. She needed training, she needed guidance, she needed to learn how to be a Sith.

 

oOo

 

As if her evening couldn’t be worse, she now had drawn attention of one of Dark Lords. Gossip was strong in the Academy, so she already knew him by reputation: ruthless, powerful, ambitious, and a womaniser on top of all that.

Clutching nervously a datapad with her essay, she went to Darth Nox’s chambers with a heart beating fast. He sat behind his desk, reading something, so she stopped at the threshold, and patiently waited. A few minutes later he raised his head, and spotted her.

“Next time announce your arrival. You won’t waste your or my time,” he said.

“Yes, my lord.” She didn’t have the courage to explain to him that she didn’t mean to interrupt his work.

“Come in,” he waved his hand, inviting her in. “It would appear you don’t have a master yet.”

“No, my lord. Overseer Ruk… he informed me of my next task, which was the last one… it was to be decided… who would choose me.”

“You are the last one standing from this set of tasks,” he stated. “You also excel at theoretical studies. You seem to lack somewhat in the aspect of your combat skills.”

He paced in front of her, while speaking. She did all her best to hold eye contact, but couldn’t. His red eyes terrified her. She lowered her head, and stared at the floor.

“I checked your record. You spend great time in the library, but a lot less in combat practice. Why?”

She nervously squeezed the datapad.

He stopped pacing, approached her, put his fingers gently under her chin, and raised it to look into her eyes. “Why?” he repeated.

“My lord…” She couldn’t tell him. He’d kill her for that. Maybe… maybe a quick death was preferable to this existence. “My lord, I don’t want to be Sith. I never did. I was a slave, and I was brought here against my will. I don’t want to kill people. I don’t want to hurt people. I didn’t want to be here… until I discovered a forgotten place… a chamber of some kind in the tombs. With statues, art, writings on walls.” Her face gradually brightened, as she spoke of things that had interested her back that day. “Sith are scary, and cruel, and terrifying, but the culture, the history… this is fascinating. I want to know more.” The light in her eyes dimmed. “But I don’t want to take lives.”

He watched her for a long while. She didn’t see anger on his face, just interest.

He walked away, and returned to his seat. “You will report to my chamber tomorrow morning. I’ll have a few errands for you.” She was stunned by this turn of events. “Dismissed, Apprentice Herneth. You can go now.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she whispered, and left.

This meeting had not gone the way she’d expected. Still a little numb from shock, she walked to her shared with other acolytes room, replaying the conversation. He had been polite, calm, and… respectful. He’d never dropped the hateful word “slave”, which was the first since she’d arrived in the Academy. She greatly appreciated that.

She didn’t know he hated that word as much as she.

 

* * *

 

**A Different Path**

 

_Note: The story takes place after Chapter 9 of KOTET but contains no spoilers._

_Note #2: Herneth is Nayel’s apprentice. She arrived on Odessen with him, when he joined Attira._

 

 

“Master.”

Herneth’s soft voice behind his back didn’t startle Nayel. He carefully put the tablet back in its place, and then turned to her.

“This is probably the last time I call you that,” she said, bravely looking into his red eyes. She had made her decision, and was ready to go on with it, but she was also fully aware these could be the last moments of her life.

But she owed him this much: honesty.

Her master always terrified her. He was cruel and ruthless, and she could never understand his lack of compassion and empathy. How his mind worked that no suffering made his heart ache?

However, she also always respected him. He was the first person in her life who treated her with kindness, never called ‘slave’ with contempt, and sacrificed a lot of his time to teach her. The knowledge he’d passed on to her was enormous, and his trust in sharing dark Sith rituals with her humbling.

But she was never a true Sith. She was forced into the academy, but never wanted to become what they wanted her to. She enjoyed the knowledge, but not the cruelty; cultural artefacts, but not their dark application; rich history, but not the conclusions her instructors expected her to draw from it.

Her path led somewhere else.

“Why?” he asked.

“I have spoken with Master Tarkana. She agreed to take me as her padawan.”

She’d expected rage. The Dark Lord didn’t need much to infuriate him but what she saw on his face was the last thing she’d thought she would: disappointment. Even sadness. He was silent, looking at her, and she felt she’d failed him.

“You did so much for me, and I can never repay you for all the good, care, and respect you showed me. But… being Sith is not my place. You must know that. You tried your best to prepare me for difficult life among other Sith, and my being still alive is the best proof you succeeded, but I don’t want to live like this any longer.

“You will always be very important to me, Master, and I will never forget what you did for me. I’m sure I’d be dead by now without you.

“But this is something I must do. This is my true calling. I cannot be a Sith. I am a Jedi.”

His expression hardened. His eyebrows drew together, and his lips tinned with anger.

“Get out of my sight,” he growled.

“Master…”

“Don’t you dare to call me that ever again…” he hissed. “Get out!” he yelled, stretching his hand toward the exit. “Before I kill you!”

It didn’t escape her that his voice shook but not only with fury. She’d hurt him. Failed him.

Betrayed him.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, but the look he gave her prevented any more words leaving her mouth.

She wouldn’t be forgiven, ever. She knew he was incapable of that. And maybe… she didn’t deserve it either.

“I’m so sorry.”

He jerked. It startled her for two reasons; she hadn’t expected it, but also she knew he’d barely stopped himself from hurting her right this moment. She wanted to say something soothing, something appropriately apologetic, but she understood that her words were hurting him even more, adding more pain to the betrayal he had just suffered.

She backed out of the room, watching him fuming in cold silence.

When she was outside and out of sight, she heard the characteristic sound of his lightsaber being activated. She stopped, wondering if he was chasing her. She’d never survive a fight with him; she knew that for certain. But no, he didn’t follow her. She heard him scream in rage, and a noise of smashing destruction raining on every object in the room.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She’d never forgive herself what she’d done to him, but she knew she had to take care of her own future. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but it was the right thing to do.

She was to become a Jedi.

Still, the greatest influence on her life, and the most important person, whom she ever had, would always remain Darth Nox. Even if he wouldn’t even look at her from now on, he would always be uniquely meaningful to her.


	3. I’m No Leader

_Note: The story takes place shortly after Chapter XII of KOTFE._

____________________________________________________

Dear Malavai,

This is letter number 74. Most of the previous 73 served as my way of putting my thoughts to order. Writing helped me turn the chaos in my mind into a linear string.

But this time… this time I really need your answer, more than ever. I need your opinion, situation assessment, calculations, and any other organised summary your military mind could provide. I need your genius strategic mind.

I am lost. Time to learn came again, and I cannot wrap my mind around the notions I must absorb. I fear to fail. I fear I don’t understand. I fear I cannot abandon the old ways, my ways for something that makes my insides scream with anger.

I always fed on my rage. Channelled it. Targeted it towards the enemy, and it was clear who the enemy was. Now, I’m asked to abandon it. I’m trying to redirect it toward the new enemy – the one who separated me from you – but it’s not easy to forget… or forgive the old enemy.

My teacher… teachers asked me a question. I’d known what answer they wanted to hear, and that’s the one I gave them, but it’s not what I wanted to say.

I know…no, I understand that I must learn to accept that it should be my answer. To absorb it as my answer. To make it my answer. But I can’t stop resisting the idea that my fate is written down, and I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to be a puppet of any “fate”; I want to write the story of my life myself.

Should that Jedi come to me alone, I would dismiss her words if not outright kill her. I’d assume she wanted to corrupt me with her Jedi lies. But…Darth Marr earned my respect and trust, and if he tells me to do something, I want to do it. When the enemy and the ally tell you the same thing… I don’t understand how he could say refusing to bow to Valkorion was a mistake – I firmly believe the price of doing it would be a lot higher – but I’m hoping he meant something else. Still, his presence, his essence was sufficient for me to know that I should not refuse the Jedi’s… Satele’s words. If I can work with her son, and consider him a valuable asset, I can work with her as well.

I am no leader. I am no politician. I am no example. I am the Wrath. The Empire’s Wrath.

… Or is it the Galaxy’s Wrath now?


	4. Homeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note #1: Mili is Malavai’s younger brother. He joined Attira (the Outlander, Warrior married to Quinn) in the Alliance sometime during KOTFE, after he was exiled from the Empire for his attempts to free his brother from prison.
> 
> Note #2: The story takes place after Chapter 2 of KOTET.
> 
> Note #3: THIS is why one size doesn’t fit all (same KOTET story for all classes)!

 

Attira was standing by the Fury, looking at the landscape of mountains. Mili approached her, and saw something on her face that he had never seen before. He hadn’t been even sure she was capable of that.

“They treated me like a stranger,” she said. “Like I didn’t belong.” Another tear rolled down her pale cheek. She looked up at him. “We built a home on Dromund Kaas. We got married on Dromund Kaas. I gave birth to Nil’awr on Dromund Kaas. We planned future on Dromund Kaas. Yet they treated me as if I was there the first time; a short-time visitor.”

She silenced for a moment. He couldn’t find any words. Being an exile himself, he fully understood it. He had been born and raised on Dromund Kaas, and received not a warmer welcome.

“I’ve been rejected, again,” she whispered. He knew what she meant: her parents had abandoned her like a stranger. Now the Empire treated her like a stranger, too. Her own words. “I am not seen as a Sith. Or someone from the Empire. I’m treated like a separate entity. Like a potential enemy, who could become an ally for a while.”

Another tear slid down her cheek. His heart was breaking at her pain. He wished there was something he could do, but he had no idea what that could be.

She turned to him; her tears of sorrow turning into tears of anger. “Is that what I have to suffer?” she barked. “Five years of my life stolen. And now I’ve been thrown out of my own home! Why? Due to my absence?”

“Attira, they see you as a head of another state,” he said softly.

She snorted. “I don’t want another state! I want to defeat the enemy, and then go home!” She turned away to look at the mountains again. “This is not some kind of empire I’m building here,” she growled. “This is a bunch of deserters and defectors from the Empire and the Republic. Nothing more. Once the common enemy is gone, we go back to fighting each other. The Jedi will return to their goal of total Sith annihilation. What will I do then, hmm?” She looked at him again. “Where will I go? Where will… if I find him… where will he go? He’s still Imperial. He will always be, it’s in his heart.” Mili didn’t need to ask whom she was talking about. Malavai. “I’m — apparently — not any more. Even Vowraun treats me like a stranger, and addressed me ‘commander’. Vowraun! The Sith I consider the closest thing to my master!”

Mili wasn’t sure she was more furious or more morose. He knew for certain she was hurting, but had no idea how to help alleviate her pain. It was as if her parents abandoned her again, but this time it was the Sith Empire. It pained him. She had done so much for the Empire; she deserved more than this.

On the other hand he knew it was not lack of respect towards her. It was because Acina saw her as an equal, not a servant.

He smiled slightly. Unlike most of them, this Sith always considered herself to be in service of the Empire. She thought of it as her duty. He knew it was due to the influence Malavai had on her. She wouldn’t be like that if not his presence in her life. Now she was… homeless. Duty-less. His smile faded away. He knew all she wanted was to be done with Valkorion and his insane offspring, only to return home to start rebuilding it. She just had learnt that home didn’t want her back. That she had no home.

He felt for her, because he didn’t either. This Odessen place was not going to a be a temporary stop; there was a good chance it was the last stop.

“Maybe you can build a new home,” he suggested quietly. Also for him, which he didn’t add.

The look she gave him made him take a step back. “Not you too!” she shouted, gesturing angrily. “I don’t want to hear any more word about that nonsense of destiny and taking that foul seat! You hear me?!”

“Yes, loud and clear,” he said but his words were drowned by her rage.

“I want the enemy destroyed! Utterly and completely annihilated, so that they aren’t a threat any longer. I want them to burn. I don’t want their disgusting throne or worthless empire of people who wait drooling for their droids to wipe their bottoms or narrow-minded cretins praying to a serpent! You hear me?!”

She suddenly silenced, eyeing him suspiciously. “If I’m rejected as a citizen of the Empire, and not allowed to return, what will Malavai do? Where will he go?”

The question gave him a pause. He knew his brother believed his place was by her side. He was her husband. It was his duty to stand by her, and serve her.

But his service was first and foremost to the Empire. All his life, and it had never changed, even in spite of what had been done to him. For years, serving her and serving the Empire was one and the same. Would he face a choice of serving either his wife, or his Empire? He had disobeyed an order – again – and – again – for the same reasons: he considered it wrong. He stood up to her enemies even in her absence. In a sense, he chose her side over the official Imperial position. But Mili could not tell whether Malavai would choose the Empire or her, now that those were separate paths. His love for her was endless but his duty for the Empire woven into his DNA.

As he stood there opening his mouth, closing it, opening again, and still not finding words to answer her question, her suspicious look first turned into furious, and then sullen.

“You don’t know either,” she whispered dramatically, leaning on the railing, and looking back at the mountains. “If they force me to do what I don’t want to do, and if they don’t let me go home, he will have to make a choice,” she said dryly, not looking at him.

Mili was still silent. He knew she was right, and he also worried Malavai would choose the Empire over her, over his own brother, over people who cared for him for a state that for his faithful serving ruined his career twice, court-martialed him, almost executed, and now imprisoned.

Not the first time he wondered if it was the right decision not to tell her where he was. He worried she’d go on a rampage, leaving death and destruction all over Dromund Kass in her wake, trying to free him. Not only he could not allow her kill so many innocent Imperials, he was fairly certain Malavai wouldn’t forgive her so many deaths as the cost of his freedom.

He couldn’t tell her.

She pushed away from the railing, straightened, and walked away slowly, not looking at him.

He wanted to fix it. He had to fix it.

He had no idea how to fix it.

He watched her tiny figure walk away, feeling he had failed her.

 


	5. Not His Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story takes place during the beginning of KOTET Chapter 2 in Kaas City.

Major Malavai Quinn walked the corridor quickly, a datapad in his hand, looking like someone with a purpose. Indeed, he had one but not what could be expected from those who worked with him for the last few months.

She was coming. After all the years he’d tried to find her, after all the years he’d spent it prison for refusing to abandon his search for her, after all the months he’d watched holonews, hungrily waiting for anything about the great Outlander who was taking effective steps in crushing the true Empire’s enemy, he was now hiding shyly in shadows, hoping to see her. She came here.

Shame flooded his heart; not for the first time. He should have tried harder, he should have gone rogue, he should not have let that incompetent worm lock him up, but again he’d proved too inflexible, too attached to rules and regulations, and – again – it hadn’t served him.

He felt like he’d failed her.

But she was her old self: powerful, strong, invisible.

She didn’t need him. The realisation struck him hard and painfully. In the past she had seemed to rely on his advice, on his military experience and expertise, but now she was fighting an enemy no one could defeat, and he clearly was not necessary for her success.

She didn’t need him.

The thought still ringing painfully in his mind, when the lift doors opened and she left it. As beautiful as he remembered, as tiny, with her unruly white hair escaping her buns and flowing down her pale cheeks.

She stopped, waiting for the rest of her entourage. Mili was by her side, which brought a smile to Malavai’s face. It was good he was with her. He knew what a great price – exile – he had paid for his attempts of freeing Malavai. Mili deserved to be useful, and Malavai could not think of a better place for him to serve; of a better Sith to be in service of.

There was also that SIS spy, Shan, and – to Malavai’s surprise – the traitor Beniko. He was surprised Mili was able to trust her enough to work with her again. Her list of crimes of incompetence against the Empire was so long she should be executed. She probably would be, if she hadn’t fled the Empire. He now started to worry this woman would bring trouble to Attira’s organisation. How many spies she’d unwittingly installed in the Alliance, how many unreliable people she’d recruited?

The last person to leave the lift was Nayel. The door closed behind him, so Malavai knew there were no more in this delegation. After seeing Mili, he wasn’t surprised his cousin was there too. They shared the fate his imprisonment cast upon them, so it was logical they continued their work together.

Attira looked at Nayel, and they appeared like communicating, exchanging information with one glance. The special connection between them was unmistakable, and Malavai could see it even from his shadow.

His broken heart bleeding with pain, his mind telling him they were better off this way. Nayel was her equal in every way; something Malavai would or could never be. Two powerful Sith, faithfully serving the Empire until they were rejected by it for the most stupid reasons. Two equal people, destined to great things, found each other, and could now support each other without question, without doubts, with full understanding.

She didn’t need him any more. She had all she needed. She found a worthy replacement of him: a mere meaningless Imperial, mid-ranking officer with history of court-martial and prison replaced by a powerful Dark Lord of the Dark Council. This was a man worthy of a woman such as she! He loved her enough to let her go to be happy with another man.

He hid deeper in the shadow, making sure no one would notice him, and watched them pass by. No one looked in his direction, and when they were far enough, he returned to his duties.

He’d never forget her. He’d never stop loving her, but he’d never try to take her happiness away from her. She had someone who was a lot more appropriate life partner than he could be, and Nayel would make a far better father for Nil’awr than a simple Imp, such as himself, could.

____________________________________________

It would take months and a coincidence for him to discover how terribly wrong he was.


	6. Brothers Be Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ficlet takes place shortly after Malavai Quinn joined his wife on Odessen.
> 
> Mili is Malavai's yougner brother.

“Mali, can you check this out?” Mili asked his brother, handing him a datapad.

“Naturally, Commander.” On duty. Mili bit his lip. “Sorry, Major.”

But the damage had been already done. Attira’s head raised slowly, as she suspiciously glared at Mili. “What did you call him?” she asked slowly.

“When I was very young, ‘Malavai’ was too difficult for me to pronounce. So was ‘Milivai’, to be fair. So I called him Mali, and introduced myself to my toddler friends as Mili. It stuck. Why?”

“You just gave her ammunition to tease me,” Malavai sighed, raising his hand to his forehead, and shaking his head with fake exasperation.

“What’s wrong… Mali,” Attira smirked, then giggled.

“I… I’ll just get back to my duties.” Mili slowly backed out, amused by their behaviour.


	7. Never fear them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Jedi survives a meeting with Sith Lord Nil'awr Quinn. The young Sith kills them as a principle. Here is why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Attira — Marauder, the Alliance Commander, married Malavai Quinn  
> Nayel — Sorcerer, her right hand, Malavai’s cousin, romances Theron  
> Nil’awr — Attira and Malavai’s son, six-year-old at the time of the story
> 
> Note #1: The story is written with the assumption that my Sith Warrior (Attira) is the Outlander, while my Inquisitor work for her in the Alliance.
> 
> Note #2: The story takes place after Malavai Quinn’s return and rejoining his wife on Odessen.

The war room buzzed with its usual murmur of sounds, both sentient-made and computer humming. T7’s wheels cluttered quietly rolling on the ground. Malavai found comfort in the familiarity of the sounds; it helped him concentrate.

He looked up at Attira. She was leaning on the main situational table, studying the holo that was displayed over it. Her frown of concentration was just about to bring a smile to his face but he was not going to let that happen. His heart was smiling but there was no way he’d be caught with the ‘I adore my wife’ look on his face by his co-workers… again. He was on duty, and had to remain fully professional.

The usual sounds were disturbed. Some kind of havoc was coming from the east corridor. It took Malavai a fraction of a second to recognise what it was…

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!” the thin voice kept screaming.

With a corner of his eye he noticed Attira looking at him with panic on her face.

The thin screaming suddenly silenced with a loud thump. Then resumed. Malavai was on his way to it, and grabbed his son as the boy reached the threshold of the war room. His palms were bloodied after the fall he’d taken a moment before. He stretched them toward his father, and Malavai scooped him in his arms.

“What happened?” he asked softly, carrying the child toward his mother, who had worry painted all over her face. He was certain his own face reflected the same feeling.

Nil’awr was sobbing loudly, and even though he tried to explain what had happened, Malavai could not make any of it over loud gasps for air, and howling. He just pressed the boy’s head to his chest and leaned his cheek on his white hair that looked so much like his mother’s. He stroked the soft locks, murmuring, “Shhhh…. shhhhh…”

Finally he managed to recognise a few words. ‘Jedi’, ‘kill’, ‘mummy’. He didn’t like what it implied.

Attira approached them. Nil’awr stretched his hands toward her, so she picked him up. His crying got louder. He hid his face in her chest, while she was trying to calm him down.

Two Jedi ran into the room. They stopped. The older one — Malavai could not recall her name, so she had to be one of the newer additions — motioned toward the middle of the room, looking at the boy.

He didn’t even know when he had pulled his blaster. All he knew was that a second later he was pushing into the soft spot under her chin.  
“What have you done to my son!” he barked.

“I’m sorry, this is a misunderstanding…” she started explaining. “I was talking to my padawan, teaching her, and said—”

Nil’awrs howling became louder. Malavai guessed the boy recognised her voice, and was scared anew all over again.

“I don’t think he needs to hear it again!” the Imperial cut her off.

His finger tingled. He wanted to pull the trigger so much. He hated those patronising liars with the complex of superiority. If it depended on him they would not be allowed here but it was not his decision, and he respected his commander too much to ruin her operation. He knew his place.  
“Out — before I kill you,” he growled.

“But I’d like to explain… to tell him—”

“Out!” He pushed the blaster deeper into her neck.

“Master, we should leave,” the Padawan whispered.

“I’m sorry,” the Jedi said quietly, but she turned away and left, headed back to the Force Enclave.

Malavai put his blaster back on his hip, and turned to his wife and son.

Nil’awr’s chin was on her shoulder, as she was holding him. He was looking at Nayel, who stood right there behind her, talking to him. The boy was calmer, listening to whatever his uncle was telling him. Malavai approached them.

“… arrogant, and always sure they are right. They are dangerous, don’t forget that, but you should not be afraid of them. Ever. Don’t underestimate them, don’t assume they are weak or could be easily defeated. But never fear them. Be prepared to take them down. Be prepared to be challenged. Be prepared to be told you can be changed to become better if you only follow them, and become one of them. Be prepared for everything. Be prepared to be attacked first. But never ever fear them.

“They may say they should kill all Sith. They may think they are able to kill your mummy. Or me. But they can’t. They won’t. They are not weak but we are stronger. And we don’t fear them. Do we?” he asked, looking at Attira.

She shook her head. “No.” She looked up at Malavai; he stood next to her, gently stroking Nil’awr’s back to comfort him. “Daddy is not even Sith, and he is not afraid of them either.”

Nil’awr turned his head to his father, and the Imperial shook his head to confirm her words. The boys face was still all red, and wet from crying, but apart rapid gasps of air he was a lot calmer.

“Never fear them,” Nayel said softly in his raspy voice one more time.

Malavai put the puzzles together, and had a good guess what had happened. The Jedi apparently had been teaching her Padawan what an abomination the Sith were, and telling her they should be eradicated. In her Jedi arrogance she probably claimed rather by being ‘redeemed’ than ‘murdered’, but he had no doubt what hid under that lie.

In Nil’awr’s mind that vague ‘Sith must disappear’ translated as ‘kill mummy, kill uncle, kill me’. No surprise the boy was scared. The Jedi had told her Padawan that his family should be murdered. What child wouldn’t be scared of that?

Malavai felt another urge to just blow the woman’s head off. Just go there, and kill her. Instead he stood where he was, by his son, making sure the boy felt safe.

“My lord”, he said to him, knowing it would bring a smile to the child’s face. It always did. “I think I saw ice-cream with your name on it. And a glass of juice.”

Still with puffy signs of crying, the little face brightened with a toothy smile. He wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, so Malavai took him from Attira, and carried out of the war room.


End file.
